


I Know the Artist

by carpevinum



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M, NYC Life, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:05:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4420661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpevinum/pseuds/carpevinum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gus loves seeing Justin's art, especially at MoMA, and getting to brag about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know the Artist

When MoMA first purchased one of Justin’s paintings, he paid the outrageous twenty-five dollar admission fee just to go see it. He stood in front of the painting, his painting, and nearly started crying. At one point, he reached out, wanting to touch the artwork he created but was stopped at the last moment by a guard. He settled for running his finger over the placard with his name printed on it. Justin Taylor. That was his name, on the wall of the fucking Museum of Modern Art in New York City, next to a painting that he did. The feeling was incredible, and the rush of emotions ranked somewhere above ecstasy but below fucking Brian. 

Back then it was acceptable. Now it just seems wrong. Justin knows he shouldn’t indulge himself like this; an artist should be constantly refining his craft, not gazing at his own work. So he tells himself that it’s for Gus. After all, he was the one who insisted. The two of them stand in front of Justin’s painting, in the same spot they’ve been standing in for the past thirty minutes. They stare at the painting in front of them, not speaking much. Gus is trying extremely hard to appear pensive, despite being unable to make much sense of the art itself. If anything, he knows that it is beautiful; all of Justin’s work is. 

When a well-dressed, elderly couple stops to observe, Gus matter-of-factly tells them, “I know the artist.” The pride in his voice makes Justin’s heart swell. 

The couple smiles at him, somewhat uneasily, unsure whether to be amused or concerned by what is either a harmless fib or dangerous delusion. 

“It’s true,” he continues when he senses that they don’t believe him. “This is him,” he says, tugging on Justin’s arm. “Justin, introduce yourself,” Gus orders in a loud whisper. Despite being only twelve, he’s developed quite the habit of bossing people around. 

Dutifully, Justin smiles and greets Gus’ latest victim. “Hi, yes, hello. I’m Justin.” He’s not particularly fond of having to introduce himself, so he always does it hastily. 

“Justin Taylor,” Gus clarifies on his behalf, walking up toward the canvas and pointing at the placard. “See, Justin Taylor. He’s my dad’s boyfriend. The correct term is partner, but I don’t like it, because I have a lab partner — her name is Beth — but that doesn’t mean I love her or anything like my dad loves Justin. And I certainly don’t do any of things they do to each other with Beth. So really, they’re boyfriends, but in a strictly non-conventional, non-defined way. Although, now that I think about it, they’re totally conventional, because they argue just as much as Grandma and Grandpa do and they take turns doing things like the dishes, except Justin always cooks because Dad is awful at cooking. And Mom says they’re very defined, because according to her, they’ve both stopped ‘tricking’ whatever that means.”

“Okay,” Justin interjects at this point, the tips of his ears getting red with embarrassment. “I think we’ve taken enough of this lovely couple’s time.” They nod quickly and scurry away. 

Gus shrugs, reverting his gaze to the painting. “Those Upper East Side types, they have no appreciation for art.” 

Brian comes to fetch them later, sneaking up behind Gus and Justin. He ruffles Gus’ hair, who ducks and swats away Brian’s hand in a typical pre-teen fashion, and gives Justin, who’s too busy staring at his own painting to face him, a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve been standing here the whole time.”

Gus shakes his head. “We looked at Pollock, van Gogh, and Cézanne too, but this is my favorite.” 

Brian glances at Justin. “Uh-huh,” he says slowly, resisting the urge to grin.

Justin shrugs and replies innocently, “what can I say? The kid’s got good taste.”


End file.
